


Taming Dragons

by marinstan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Background Relationships, Bartender Draco Malfoy, Confused Harry Potter, Fuckbuddies, Idiots in Love, M/M, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post War, Self-Discovery/Coming Out, Slow Burn, Smut, Switching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:34:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23085592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marinstan/pseuds/marinstan
Summary: After a year of taming dragons in Romania, Harry struggles to find his place in London - and in life. With his best friends broken up and single himself, Harry feels lonlier than ever before.His first time running into Draco Malfoy might be a coincidence (some would call it fate), but all the times after that certainly are not.It takes the Chosen One embarrassingly long to figure out what exactly it is that makes him keep coming back to one very particular Slytherin.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 14
Kudos: 142





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have rated this story as mature because I usually shy away from very explicit language. Nonetheless, there will be smut and it won't just be some heated kisses. So if you're not into that and would prefer to keep it PG-13, then I'd probably recommend you read another story!  
> For everyone still with me - happy reading; I hope you enjoy!

Taming dragons isn't easy.

I have an impressive collection of scars to prove it. They spit fire and sometimes, they try to rip your head off because you annoy them so much, even though they love you.

The burn on my left forearm scarred and the scratch of claws on my back did too, despite Charlie's brilliant healing skills.

Taming dragons isn't easy, but living in London again is harder. I've been here for two days now and everything feels... off. Terribly off. My soul is still in Romania and seems to be unable to process me being back.

It has only been a year of getting up early and breathing the earthy air fillled with smoke, but it feels like a lifetime.

I don't want to be back.

Hermione and Ron picked me up from the airport. I took an airplane because I thought the extra time might help me to acclimate, but I was wrong.

„Shit, I've missed you,“ Ron says, smiling widely. His smile has changed a little since the War. It's more fleeting than it used to be.

Hermione's smile is almost worried. „I'm so glad you're back, Harry.“

They both look at me as if it'd be Fifth Year all over again. I try to diffuse their worries, even though I am worried myself.

„You two look good,“ I say and mean it.

Hermione now has her NEWTs and is ready to run for Minister for Magic while Ron... well. He looks like he isn't drinking as much anymore.

„How's Charlie?“ he asks on our way to Ron's place. I'll move in with him – the prospect of living at Grimmauld Place is daunting at best.

„He's good. I feel like half of the farm is in love with him.“

„You mean the dragons or the workers?“ Ron asks, grinning.

„Both. But Charlie definitely prefers the dragons.“

We all laugh and I try to savor it. I did miss my friends. So much that I couldn't fall asleep some nights.

And yet... being back feels wrong.

I'm walking between them because Ron has still trouble looking Hermione in the eye. I'm not even sure they're friends anymore.

„I'll let you two get settled,“ Hermione says when we reach the apartment and it's just another reminder of how things have changed.

We're not the Golden Trio anymore. I've always hated that title, but now – I feel like it was quite accurate. What we had was special.

And now it's lost like so many other things.

Ron's apartment isn't big and not really cozy either. I'd call it functional.

„George has been living with me for a while,“ he says.

„Why did he move out?“

With a shrug, Ron helps me maneuver my heavy trunk into my new room. „I think he needed his space. He lives at the Joke Shop now.“

I nod. I understand it – this need for space. It's what drove me to Romania afterall.

„Want to get dinner?“ Ron asks.

It's strange, not having to get up at five every morning.

Ron does, most days – Auror training is harsh.

I suddenly have so much time on my hands that one day seems to stretch forever. I have no plan. Nothing to do with myself.

Mostly because I know I have to, I visit the Burrow. Molly is over the moon to have me there – but it's still not easy to meet her eye. Her face is marred with grief.

In the evenings, Ron and I usually don't talk much. Instead, we drink.

The burn of Firewhiskey is nothing against the lick of a dragon's flame.

Sometimes, when I look at the destroyed patch of skin on my arm, I think of Fiendfyre. I think of the heat and the sweat and the panic. I think of hands clawing at my shirt, so afraid I might let go.

„What happened to Draco Malfoy?“ I ask Ron eventually.

Ron blinks, throwing back a shot.

„I don't know, mate. He got free, after a month in Azkaban. I think they put restrictions on his wand. I have no idea what he does now. And I don't really care either.“

„Yeah, I... me neither.“

Ron sighs.

Afterall, he can always tell when I'm lying.

It speaks volumes on how bored I am that I agree to come with Hermione quill shopping.

Diagon Alley is almost like I remember it from when I was eleven and naive. Ollivander's looks like no one had ever broken into it and the alley is buzzing with life.  
It's been over a year now. People are moving on.

Still – I don't dare to leave the house without a desillusion charm. They won't stop coming at me and it always makes me sick.

The doorbell tingles as Hermione strides into the shop.

„I know it's unnecessary luxury, but I really want to have this peacock feather quill,“ she tells me.

„Then you should get it,“ I say, looking around.

I've never been one for writing, but the shop is a nice one. As Hermione darts off in search of the quill in question, I notice a blond head, bent over rolls of parchment.

My heart stutters in my chest.

I approach him quietly. I could stick with the charms. I could talk to him about the weather. He'd never know that the friendly brunet with the boring brown eyes and smooth forehead was me.

But... I want him to know it's me.

„Malfoy,“ I say and he shoots up, his head whipping around.

His gray eyes widen. „Potter.“

He's wearing muggle clothes, is the first thing I notice. They suit him. But it's a foreign sight – Draco Malfoy in jeans is almost like seeing a house elf in a fine suit.  
His hair is short on the sides, bangs falling into his face. He doesn't slick them back anymore. Around his mouth, there is a thin line that speaks of tiredness and endured hardships. It's a line I know well.

„You're back,“ Malfoy says.

We're the same height now.

„Yeah.“

The Slytherin makes to turn away.

„And what do you do?“ I ask.

Gray eyes give me an assessing gaze. „I don't really think it is any of your business what I do.“

„Okay.“

„Harry, I'm – oh.“ Hermione comes to stand next to me. „Hi, Draco.“

My jaw drops.

„Hello,“ he says, not quite looking at her.

„How are you?“ she asks him conversationally and simultaniously steps on my foot. I close my mouth.

„I'm alright, thank you. And yourself?“

„Oh, I'm fine. Have you tried this new brand of ink? It doesn't fade as quickly. I find it really helpful.“

Malfoy nods, a small movement of his head. „I'll give it a try.“

She smiles at him. „Well, I'll see you around.“

„Have a good day.“

Hermione drags me to the counter.

„You – you two...“ I stare at her, then back at the shop.

„Harry, please.“ Hermione has my wrist in an iron grip.

„Hermione, you – are you?“

She blinks at me. „He's apologized to me. Almost right after the trials. I've met him at the shop quite a lot.“

I can't wrap my head around it. „Are you friends?“

She seems to consider that. „I don't think so. Acquaintances, I'd say.“

„What does he do?“ I ask.

It's the third time I've asked this question.

„I think he is a bartender,“ she says.

„Oh. Is he -“ I don't know what I want to ask. I don't know why my head feels so fuzzy.

Hermione gives me a look.

„Still, Harry?“

I don't know what she means with that.

„Do you know where he works?“

I have never been one for thinking things through.

That is probably the only reason why I'm sitting here now, in a shady club in Knockturn Alley, being ogled and feeling terribly out of place.

If I'd have thought about it, I'd have realized that I don't know why I'm here – what my intentions are and why I'm not looking for a productive way to pass my time.

But here I am, nursing a butterbeer and looking for platinum blond hair.

I don't have to wait for too long. Malfoy sees me the moment he walks up behind the counter. The shirt he's wearing is open at the collar and I can see his collar bones. I keep looking at them.

They are just bones. I can't really think of a word to describe them.

„What are you doing here?“ Malfoy seems shocked, even though he tries to disguise it.

„Having a drink,“ I say.

He raises one eyebrow at me. I can't raise one eyebrow.

„In Knockturn Alley? Alone?“

„Yeah.“

Malfoy looks at me for a moment longer. „Well. What can I get you then?“

„A Firewhiskey.“

I don't know why I'm here.

I turn around and watch the crowd. It's a strip club. There are dancers on poles, male and female, and leering men.

I feel out of place.

„Why did you start bartending?“ I ask Malfoy as he hands me my drink.

The Slytherin gives me a cold look.

„Because I just love it so much.“

I blink and throw back the shot.

„Why did you hide away in Romania?“ he asks me, eyes blazing.

„Because I just love dragons so much.“

We lock eyes for a moment. I feel hot. It's so hot in here.

„Go home, Potter.“ Malfoy is frowning deeply.

„I don't want to fight anymore. I'm tired of it,“ he says.

Disappointment is curling in my belly.

„Didn't think I'd ever hear you say that. To me, I mean.“

Malfoy shrugs with one shoulder. It looks different from how I've ever seen anyone else shrug.

„I'm sure you'll find someone else.“

„Not really.“

As if anyone wants to fight the Savior. Aka huge fuck-up.

Malfoy sighs. „What did you come here for? I'm genuinely asking because I don't know.“

„Me neither.“

„You must be really desperate if you really have nothing better to do than stalk me again.“

„I guess,“ I say.

Malfoy stares at me.

„Go home,“ he says again.

„Ron and Hermione broke up,“ I tell him.

„I know.“

„Right. You and Hermione are friends now.“ I run my finger over the rim of the shot glass.

„We're not friends.“

„Acquaintances.“

Malfoy does his half shrug again. „Perhaps.“

„Hermione broke up with him because she couldn't bear it anymore.“ I look at Malfoy. „Ron just lost his brother and _she_ couldn't bear it anymore.“

Reaching for a piece of lime, Malfoy gives me another raised eyebrow. „Isn't she your friend?“

„Of course she is.“

„Then maybe you should respect her wishes.“

„I am! I just – I don't understand. Ron and Hermione, they were – they've been pining over each other since Fourth Year.“

„Things change, Potter. Are you still the same person you were at fourteen?“

The sad thing is, I feel like I am.

„I don't understand,“ I repeat.

„Really? You don't understand that there might be more out there than Ronald Weasley?“

I narrow my eyes at Malfoy. „Don't talk about him like that.“

„He's not _my_ friend. I'll talk about him however I like.“

We glare at each other and I half hope he'll hex me. Or punch me. That would be even better.

„You shouldn't be here, Potter. Go home to your girlfriend. Get a job. Make some ginger babies with green eyes. You won. It's time you realize that.“

„Ginny broke up with me,“ I tell Malfoy when I'm back at the club a week later.

The blond looks so annoyed that it's almost funny. „My condolences. And you thought I'd care – why, exactly?“

I shrug. „I just wanted to tell the truth. Because you said to make babies. I don't have anyone to make babies with.“

Malfoy stares at me as if I'd grown a second head and I blush.

„Yeah, that was weird. Sorry.“

„I doubt that nineteen would be your preferred age to enter fatherhood anyway,“ he says after a short moment of recovery.

„That's true.“ I watch him prepare a cocktail. „Do you want kids?“

Malfoy laughs. He actually laughs. „Did someone hex you, Potter?“

„Why?“

„Are you really asking me if I want kids?“

„Yeah. Do you?“

Malfoy looks at me sideways, shaker in hand.

„No,“ he finally says. „I don't think I do.“

„Oh. Okay.“ I watch him for some more minutes. When he turns to me, I look into his eyes. He sighs.

„Well, Potter – do _you_ want kids?“

„I think so. I mean, not now. But eventually.“

„Of course you do,“ he just says.

„What do you do when you're not bartending?“ I ask him.

He waits with his answer so long that I think he'll just pretend not to have heard me.

„I write,“ he finally says.

„Oh. That's nice. What do you write?“

„Is that any of your business?“

I shrug. „It could be, if you told me?“

Something like a smile ghosts around Malfoy's pale lips.

„You've gone mental after the war, haven't you?“ He doesn't say it with malice.

„A little,“ I concede and then he's really smiling. „But I think I've always been.“

He looks at me.

„I write about Voldemort,“ Malfoy finally says.

„That's – Okay. What exactly?“

„About his life.“ Now Malfoy isn't looking at me anymore.

„Before he became the Dark Lord,“ Malfoy adds.

„I could help you,“ I say.

Malfoy puts the glass he was just preparing down and stares at me.

„What is this, Potter? Are you taking the piss? Is this some kind of huge prank?“

I hold his gaze.

„No. I really am that lonely.“

Malfoy sucks in a sharp breath.

When he doesn't say anything, I smile a little and say: „I really know a lot about Tom Riddle. Probably more than anyone else.“

Malfoy stares at me some more. Then he turns back to his glass. „Fine, Potter.“

I spend a whole day cleaning the house because Malfoy is about to come over.

Ron is watching me curiously.

„If he tries anything, I'll hex him into oblivion,“ he says.

„He won't. I think he isn't even allowed to perform curses.“

„And since when does Malfoy give a fuck about what's allowed?“

I shrug. „He won't try anything.“

Ron rolls his eyes. „Okay, mate. Whatever you say.“

I wipe my hands on my jeans and look around the living room. It's cleaner than it has ever been before.

„I'll be off then,“ Ron says. He's going for a pint with some of our old housemates. I think he's asked me three times if I want to join them.

„Yeah, okay. I'll see you later.“

„Be careful with Malfoy,“ Ron says and closes the door behind him.

* * *

It's a mistake, I think, as Potter opens the door for me. It's a mistake that I'm here.

He's staring at me with those green eyes behind his hideous glasses, hands stroking over his jeans in a nervous gesture and I don't know what I'm doing here.

Except that I'll probably never get a chance to interview the Chosen One himself for my book again. It would have been stupid not to say yes. And yet, standing here – it does feel stupid.

„Hey. Um – come in.“

I follow Potter into the apartment. It's tidier than I expected. No empty takeaway boxes or dishes in the sink. No clothes thrown over the armrest of the couch.

„You live here with Weasley?“

Potter wipes his palms on his jeans again. „Yeah. It's Ron's. I just didn't want to move into Grimmauld Place.“

Grimmauld Place used to belong to my family. Then it became the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. It bears a certain irony, if you think about it.

„So, um... is here okay?“

Potter waves his hand in the direction of the kitchen table.

„Certainly.“ I usually write with a wooden board on my lap, sitting cross-legged on my bed. This will be way more comfortable.

„Good. Do you want to drink something?“

„Coffee would be nice.“

Potter nods and makes two cups.

„Are you hungry?“ he asks, his back turned to me.

„Not particularly.“ I keep looking around. The apartment looks... impersonal. Not at all like I expected Harry Potter to live.

Granted, he's only moved in a couple weeks ago.

„So.“ We sit at the table and I spread my parchments over it. „Tell me about Tom Riddle,“ I say and Potter takes a deep breath.

„And Dumbledore didn't know?“ I ask, hanging on Potter's lips. My third cup of coffee is empty and I'm slightly jittery from caffeine.

„No, he thought -“

The door opens and we both startle. Weasley comes stumbling into the apartment.

He's clearly drunk.

I tense. Drunk Weasleys usually aren't that fond of me. Which I understand. But that doesn't mean I want to get beat up by one again.

„Malfoy,“ he slurs.

Potter gets up. „Hey, Ron.“

„You've been working for a while,“ Weasley says and he's right.

I've been here for five hours. Potter really does have some interesting facts to share. Mind-blowing facts, to be precise.

If my name wasn't Malfoy, my book could easily become a bestseller with his input.

„Yeah, we kinda lost track of time.“ Potter scratches his nose.

„I'll go to bed. Malfoy isn't sleeping here,“ Weasley says.

Potter almost chokes.

„I certainly am not,“ I say and get up. „Don't worry, Weasley.“

Ron gives me a suspicious glance and then staggers to the bathroom.

„Sorry about that,“ Potter says.

I don't really know what he's apologizing for.

„Thank you for your time,“ I say.

He blinks at me. „Oh. Sure. Do you – I have more to say. If you're interested.“

I only hesitate for a split second. „Of course. That would be great.“

Potter smiles at me. A sudden pain shoots through my heart.

I hope I'm not getting sick.

„Okay. Cool. Then I'll – you'll owl me? When you're free?“

„Alright.“

„Good night, Malfoy.“

I give him an amused grin. „Sweet dreams.“

„Draco,“ Pansy says in that voice I know so well. It's her _you're-being-an-idiot_ voice.

„He knows a lot about the Dark Lord,“ I say.

Pansy eyes me. She's wearing sweats and her hair is ruffled. As always, she looks tired.

„I don't think this is a good idea, darling.“

„Well, we're both prone to bad ideas, aren't we?“

„Certainly. But one can at least try to change.“

I smile at her. „I'm fine, Pans. Don't worry about me.“

„I'd never.“

„Why did the Weaslette break up with you?“

Potter is blinking at me, his legs on the couch. His feet are almost touching my thigh.

„I mean, I can certainly think of many different reasons why one would dump you, but she always seemed very into your whole savior-complex.“

Potter glares at me. Then he sighs. „Yeah, well. Not anymore. I don't know, she just... She said it _fizzled out_. I think that was code for she met someone new.“ Potter shrugs and sighs again. „She's with Luna now.“

My brows shoot up. „Lovegood?“

„Yeah.“

„So she wasn't into you because she's gay.“

Potter frowns at me. „She's not gay. She's bi.“

„Alright.“ I resist the urge to roll my eyes.

„No, she just – I think she wanted more than me.“

That is such a stupid statement, I can't help but stare at him.

„Who would be more than the Chosen One? The Boy Who Lived Who-Knows-How-Many-Times?“

The glare Potter sends my way is surprisingly dark.

„I'm not that,“ he says quietly.

„Yes you are.“ I'm almost laughing.

Potter puts his legs down and sits up straighter. He's angry. He's actually really angry at me.

„Stop saying that! I'm _not_. I'm not a hero.“

I look at him.

„Last time I checked, saving the world wasn't a bad thing,“ I say carefully.

Potter looks at the ceiling and shakes his head.

„I didn't save the world. I just... died.“

„And saved the world with your sacrifice.“

„It wasn't just me. I'm not – I'm nothing special. I'm not better, I'm...“ His hands are stroking down his denims again, the pace fast.

„Okay, Potter. You're not special. You're just reckless and stupid, I know.“

He turns to me again. „I hate it when people... when they talk like you just did,“ he says quietly. „When they pretend I'd – have it all. Be everything, like I – would be so strong. I'm not. I'm actually -“ He cuts himself off.

„We're all fucked up,“ I say. I still can't quite believe that he could be as fucked as I am, but... Potter seems to feel like he is.

It unsettles me.

„Yeah.“ His blazing eyes are on me now.

„Yeah,“ he repeats. „We're all fucked up.“

* * *

Ron has a date.

He has a date with Hannah Abott and I really don't know what to think about that.

„Have fun,“ I tell him before he leaves and he grins at me.

„We'll see how it goes.“

I leave only shortly after him to meet up with Hermione. She's asked me to have lunch with her for weeks now.

After some minutes of smalltalk, she lowers her gaze and asks, aiming for casual: „Is it true that Ron is dating Hannah now?“

I bite my lip and look at her. „I mean – they have a date. So, they're not really _dating_ yet. They're just – yeah. Seeing where it goes.“

„Oh. Yeah, that's good.“ She smiles and I can tell it's fake. Hermione isn't always good at hiding her emotions. „Really, it's great. Hannah is really sweet. I just – Ron doesn't usually like very nice girls, does he? I mean...“

„Hermione,“ I say.

She bites her lip. „Sorry.“

„You broke up with him,“ I remind her gently.

„Yes. I know that.“

„So you don't really have the right to be jealous now.“

She looks at her food. „Emotions don't follow rules, Harry. And I'm not jealous. It's just – strange.“

„Yeah, I get that, just... don't you think it's good? Don't you think it means you two can finally be friends again? If he's moved on, you know.“

I know I'm being selfish. I just want things to be like they used to. Just some.

Hermione tucks her hair behind her ear. „I think so. Yes. Sounds good.“

When I'm back at the club, Malfoy isn't working.

He hasn't answered my owl for two days and I've grown impatient and... I just wanted to see him. Working on his book is the only productive thing I'm doing these days and I don't want to give that up.

But Malfoy clearly doesn't have time for me when I show up at the club.

He clearly has other plans for the night. Those plans clearly don't involve me.

Malfoy is wrapped around a guy with spikey dark hair, a little taller than him. He's wearing tight leather pants and just looks very... gay.

It all looks very gay. Malfoy is pushing his tongue in the guy's throat and the man's hands are gripping Malfoys hips...

When I notice I'm staring, I quickly turn away and head back home.

This shouldn't weird me out.

I'm not a homophobe, am I? I was so okay with Ginny and Luna. I was okay with Seamus and Dean.

I'm really not homophobic.

Maybe this is something lingering from the Dursleys. That must be it.

It must be the reason why it was so... hard to look away. Like a car crash. This guy's hands on Malfoy's narrow hips – yes. Like a car crash. It's just a lot.  
A little bit repulsing at first. But no – no, I'm not a homophobe. Jesus.

I was just surprised.

I don't mind that Malfoy is gay. It's completely okay. People are allowed to do whatever they want in bed.

Pictures of Malfoy having gay sex come to mind and I feel myself flush bright red.

Well, okay. Maybe not – maybe it's okay to find it a little strange. Afterall, it's so foreign, isn't it?

It doesn't mean I'm homophobic that I'm – agitated by thinking about it.

I'll get used to it eventually.

„Everything alright, mate?“ Ron seems more relaxed than I've seen him in a while – on leg propped on the couch table, cup of tea in hand.

„Yeah. Yeah, everything okay.“

I pour way too much milk into my own cup.

„Malfoy is gay,“ I blurt.

Ron looks at me passively. „Yeah, I know. Didn't you?“

„You – what? No, of course I didn't know – What? How do you know?“

Ron gives me a confused look. „I always thought it was pretty obvious, wasn't it? I mean – he just looks gay.“ Ron pauses. „I hope it's okay to say that. Not that every gay looks a certain way. I mean, Bill is bi and he seems pretty straight.“

„Bill is bi?“ I stare at Ron.

„Yeah. Is that a problem for you?“ Ron frowns at me.

„No – no, of course not. I'm just surprised. That Malfoy is. I just – yeah. I didn't expect it.“

Leaning forward, Ron gives me a closer look.

„Did he hit on you or something?“

„What? No, he didn't. That would be weird.“ I laugh nervously. As if Malfoy would hit on me.

„I mean, you two have always been a little bit obsessed with each other. I wouldn't be surprised, if he -“

„Ron.“ I look at him, horrified. „I'm straight.“

Ron blinks. „Yeah, I know. I just thought, maybe Malfoy...“

„Malfoy is not into me. Not at all. Can we drop this now?“

Ron gives me an amused look. „You started it.“

„I know. Just?“

„Okay. Sure.“

„How are things going with Hannah?“ I ask and sit down next to Ron.

„I mean... it's new. But good. Very good, actually.“

I smile. „That's really great, Ron. I'm happy for you.“

„Me too.“

„Did I do something? Perhaps something that suddenly reminded you of the fact that you actually despise me?“ Malfoy looks at me, clearly annoyed. And a little bit insecure.

I look at the table. „No. Everything's fine.“

„Is it? You don't act like it is.“

„You never told me you're gay,“ I tell the table.

There is a silence so long that I look up eventually. Malfoy stares at me.

„How am I to understand this statement?“

I stare back, feeling my cheeks heat. „Just – isn't that something, you, well – _tell_ people? I mean, it's just something I'd have liked to know.“

Malfoy's eyebrows shoot up so quickly that I flinch.

„Harry Potter is a homophobe. Who would have thought.“ His voice is icy.

„No, I just -“

„Well, Potter, I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable.“ He stares at me with narrowed eyes. „How did you even find out?“

My blush deepens. „Um...“

„Oh, so you were stalking me again. That's nice. You do know that this is technically a criminal offence, right? I could sue you for that.“

I swallow. „I'm sorry.“

„Did you watch me fuck a man? _Did you_ , Potter?“

I gulp. My eyes are wide. „No, I haven't -“

„Because I'm not ashamed. You can watch all you want. I don't care if you think it's disgusting. It's _my_ life and _my_ choice. And your opinion is none of my concern.“

„Yes, I know. I'm -“

„I'll leave now. Don't owl me ever again. And don't show up harrassing me when I'm at work.“

As he walks to the door, I scramble behind him. „Malfoy, I didn't mean – Look, I'm -“

He whirls around. „I don't care, Potter. I don't care about you at all. So just fuck off, would you?“

I swallow and he slams the door in my face.

„Harry, you need to apologize to him.“ Hermione looks at me alarmed. Almost disbelieving.

„I know.“

„Why would you do that?“

„He misunderstood! I didn't mean to insult him.“

With a frown, Hermoine tucks one leg under. „Well, what did you mean to do? Because it very much sounds like his queerness bothers you.“

„No, Jesus! It doesn't. It really doesn't. I was just surprised, that's all.“

Hermione gives me a look I don't like. It's this look that means she is about to figure something out about me before I do it myself.

„He's not obligated to tell you who he sleeps with, Harry.“

„Yeah. I know.“

„But you said he were.“

„I wasn't thinking!“ I ruffle my hair. „Look, I'm really, _honestly_ sorry. It came off wrong. I didn't mean to be a jerk and I don't care about queer people. I mean, I'm tolerant. Whatever. I never cared about Dean and Seamus and they shared my dorm!“

Hermione cocks her head, now more curious than offended. „That is true. What is different about Malfoy?“

„Nothing. It just came as a surprise.“

„You were surprised about Dean and Seamus as well. Which shows how oblivious you are, but that's beside the point.“ She studies my face with eyes way too smart for my liking. „Harry, do you -“

„No! Whatever you're thinking, it's not that.“

The wide smile spreading on Hermoine's face has me look away.

„It's not what you're thinking,“ I repeat. I don't even know what she's thinking. I just know I don't want to hear it.

„Fine,“ she says, still smiling.

That's when Ron chooses to open the door. Both him and Hermione freeze for a split second.

„Oh. I didn't know you'd be here.“ Ron's gaze flickers between me and Hermione.

„Hey, Ron.“ She smiles at him. It's a little too bright.

„Hi.“

He heads to his bedroom to change. Hermione bites her lip. I give her a stern look.

„Don't,“ I say.

She rolls her eyes. „I know.“

The next time I visit Malfoy at the club, he _is_ working. But not for long anymore. I timed it so that his shift would be just about to end. When he sees me, he snarls at me. He literally bares his teeth.

„Piss off, Potter. I'm not talking to you.“

„I just wanted to say I'm sorry.“

He turns his back to me and disappears in one of the staff rooms.

When he doesn't come back, I leave the club. Luckily, I find him in one of the back alleys. „Malfoy, wait.“

He doesn't, but I catch up and take his wrist. He spins around and yanks his arm away.

„What about _I'm not talking to you_ don't you understand?“

„I'm sorry! Okay? I'm really sorry. I've been a jerk. I didn't mean to, but I was. And I'm sorry. You're right, it's really none of my business who you sleep with. And I don't care you're gay. I know, you don't care if I care, but I just wanted to say it,“ I hastily add when Malfoy opens his mouth.

He stares at me for a long time. „Fine, Potter. Since we're not friends anyway, I accept your apology. Only because I want to keep working with you. Afterwards, we never have to see each other again.“

It's all I'm going to get right now, I know that, so I just nod.

„Yeah. Okay. When can I see you?“

Malfoy rolls his eyes, seeming completely done with me. „I'll come by tomorrow at seven.“

* * *

Potter is still acting strange. He's fuzzy and even more clumsy than usually and I hate him for it.

Harry Potter might be a lot of things, but I didn't take him for a homophobe.

But I'm used to being wrong about him by now, am I not?

„If you don't want me here, why don't you just say so?“ I finally snap when I get the tenth or so creepy look.

Potter looks up, green eyes wide. „I want you here.“

„It doesn't seem like you do.“

„Was that your boyfriend?“ He's not making sense. This boy is never making any sense.

„Who?“

„The guy you kissed at the club.“

I want to shout at him to stop being so fucking weird.

„No, he was just a shag. Why again are you asking me that?“

„I don't know.“

„Thinking about me kissing guys a lot, do you?“ I say, just to infuriate him.

„Actually... yes. I don't know why.“

We stare at each other. Red colour is high on Potter's cheekbones and finally, it clicks.

For once, I am the one feeling stupid. Potter has always clouded my judgement. If it had been anyone else, I'd have known from the start.

Potter isn't homophobic. Potter is _gay_.

„I see,“ I say and horror is displayed in his green irises. I wonder if he knows.

I wonder how I feel about it.

Maybe I should leave.

Maybe I should help him.

Maybe I should give him shit for it.

„You do realize why though, right? No one can be that thick. Not even you,“ is what I end up saying.

I study Potter's face. My stomach drops several floors.

Potter wants to shag me. Sweet Merlin, Harry Potter wants to shag me.

If that isn't an interesting twist, I don't know what is.

When he leans forward and kisses me, I still don't quite believe it. His lips are warm and fuller than mine and just a bit chapped.

He draws back before I can do anything but scream internally.

„Fuck, I'm sorry.“ He looks absolutely terrified.

If someone asked me why I don't laugh at him and take my leave, I wouldn't know what to answer. So it's good that no one asks me.

I lean foward and cradle Potter's chin in my hand. His breath catches when I press a controlled kiss to his lips. I pull back just a little to check for his reaction. He seems completely dazed.

Carefully, I take his glasses off.

„You could have just asked, you know,“ I say, tracing his cheekbones. He's gone completely still, aside the faint tremble of his body. „Is that what you wanted all along?“

I shouldn't be so nice.

But he's one of us. Whatever else he is, he's one of my people and he's scared.

And very needy.

Not even I am cruel enough to send him away like this.

His nod is barely even there. When I kiss him again, I'm not so careful. I'm momentarily overwhelmed by the force of his kiss, by how he's tugging at my clothes, wanting me closer.

I remember the first time I felt this. The first time being close – the first: _this is how it's supposed to feel_.

He's making needy sounds.

„You've... never been with a guy before?“ I ask him between kisses as he pulls me on top of him, always moving, clawing at me, letting go again. Running his fingers through my hair, over my face.

He shakes his head.

„Okay,“ I say, mostly to ground myself.

He's so cute. I can't deny it. He's hot.

I didn't know I'm turned on by virgins, but – well. Something about Potter really does get to me.

But he's new to this. We need to take it slow.

„Is that okay?“ I whisper into his ear as my fingers open his fly.

He nods into my neck. When I touch him, he makes a broken sound that zips straight through me.

It doesn't take long. I feel like I haven't even really started and he's already coming, arching and bucking his hips and – wow. No one has ever come in their pants for me.

I kiss his cheek because I'm stupid like that.

If I don't watch it, I'll come into my pants as well.

„Shit – shit. Oh my God. Malfoy...“ He stares at me. I wonder if he'll hit me now. If he's going to lash out out of guilt. Some guys don't know what else to do.  
Potter does. He opts for kissing me.

„Should I – can I?“ His hand is on my pants, somehow eager and shy at the same time.

„If you want to,“ I say, trying to appear calm.

It's a little difficult with Potter's hand in my pants.

Like the vast majority of guys, Potter knows quite a bit about jerking off, so he's not too insecure about this.

Even though he doesn't go quite as hard I like it, I come embarrassingly fast. I really didn't know I have a kink for the virginial type.

I'm not sure I like that.

„Scorgify,“ Potter says when my breathing has normalized again.

I draw back. Zip up my pants and tuck my shirt back in. Smooth my hair down.

„Well. That was interesting,“ I say.

Potter is staring at me.

„So, how do we go about this? Would you prefer to pretend it's never happened?“ I ask and I hate, I really hate, how badly I want him to say no.

„No, I – no. Um... thank you? That was really – yeah.“

„Really what, Potter?“

„Good,“ he says, voice almost inaudible. He clears his throat. „That was really good.“


	2. Chapter 2

„I made out with Malfoy.“

Hermione looks at me for a second, then turns her attention back to her book. „Okay. How was it?“

„Good.“

 _Good_ , in the sense of I think about it every night. _Good_ , in the sense of I keep jerking off to the memory of Malfoy's fingers wrapped around me. _Good_ , in the sense of I want to do it again.

„That's nice.“

I frown. „Is that all you're going to say?“

„What do you want me to say, Harry? Congratulations?“

She smiles at me.

„We're just going to ignore the fact that he's a guy? That he's Draco Malfoy?“

„I already knew you fancied him, so...“

I almost drop my cup of coffee. „Oh, no. No, no, no. I don't fancy him. I just think he's handsome. It didn't mean anything.“

Hermione doesn't even look at me. „Okay, Harry.“

I wait for her to say more.

„Yeah. Okay. It was really just fun.“

„I get it,“ she says and I glare at her.

Why isn't she talking back?

„Is Ron still seeing Hannah?“ she asks.

She's not looking up, but her eyes aren't moving over the pages.

„Yeah.“

„Oh.“

I don't know what to say.

„You broke up with him,“ I settle for. Quietly.

Hermione slams her book shut and looks at me annoyed. „Yes, thanks for reminding me. I almost forgot.“

I didn't plan to come to the club tonight. I just... turned up. Ended up in front of it and thought _screw it_.

Malfoy is looking at me over the counter. Shaking his head. I think something like a smile is playing around his mouth.

„Back for more, Potter?“

I swallow.

He looks good. His blond hair – I think I like blond. I think I like his arms, lean and sinewy. I think I very much like his hands – elegant and long-fingered, almost delicate.

„Maybe.“

He arches an eyebrow at me. „There is still an hour of my shift left.“

„I'll wait.“

„Merlin, you really are desperate.“

I shrug. There is no point in denying it any longer. I mean, I'm fooling around with Draco Malfoy – that in itself is desperate.

„I think Hermione wants Ron back,“ I tell Malfoy.

„Hm. That is strange,“ he says.

„Not strange, but... unfair. Ron has finally moved on. Mostly.“

„What would you like to drink, Potter?“

„What is your favorite?“

Malfoy smiles a little and I get a midnight blue drink that tastes like marzipan.

„You have a sweet-tooth,“ I conclude.

„Stunning deduction,“ he says and I smile.

„I don't know what to tell Hermione,“ I say.

„Do you have to tell her anything?“

„I don't want her to make Ron sad again.“

„It's their life. Not yours.“

„Yes, but – I want to help.“

„Sometimes you can't.“

I watch him preparing drinks for a while, then I ask: „What about your friends?“

„Who do you mean?“ He doesn't look at me.

I shrug. „I don't know. Goyle? Parkinson? Were you friends with Zabini?“

Malfoy focuses on filling shot glasses. „Goyle killed himself eight months ago, Pansy strips and Zabini lives in Paris now.“

I blink. „I'm sorry.“

„Don't be. None of it is surprising.“

„Parkinson is. I mean – does she like stripping?“

„She says she does.“

„But she really doesn't.“

„I think she could do much greater things with her time. But it isn't my decision to make.“

Despite his controlled, neutral face, I can tell that the topic agitates Malfoy. I wonder how often he's talked to Parkinson about it.

Someone bumps into me. „Oh, sorry.“ A guy with white teeth and a receding hairline grins at me. „What are you drinking, gorgeous?“

I recoil as if I'd just stepped on a snake.

I look at Malfoy.

„A Swimmingpool,“ he provides.

„I'll have the same. And maybe I can buy you the next one?“

The man winks at me. My eyes narrow.

„No, thanks. I'm good.“

The man just keeps grinning and scoots closer to me, putting an arm on my shoulder. „I insist. Maybe two shots of vodka, so we can toast?“

„Or maybe you could go sit somewhere else.“ I push his hand away and he gives me an offended look.

„Jesus. No reason to be so rude.“

I stare at him. Waiting for him to leave.

„What do you want to drink?“

„I said you shoud leave,“ I say, my magic flaring.

I'm not sure, but I think I can hear Malfoy snicker.

„Stupid bitch,“ the guy mutters under his breath before taking his leave.

„No reason to be so rude, Potter,“ Malfoy says, smirking at me.

I stare at him. This isn't funny. „I was being direct.“

„The line is a thin one.“

„He was being rude,“ I say, probably more offended than I should be.

Malfoy's expression softens. „He was. He didn't like that you weren't playing his game.“

„I don't know how to play his game. And I don't think I want to,“ I say, taking another sip of my drink.

„No, you probably don't,“ Malfoy says.

„Why are your working here?“ I ask.

He pauses a moment. „I didn't have many options after the trials. When Pansy started to strip here, I didn't want to leave her alone.“

I smile at him. „That is sweet of you.“

If looks could kill, Voldemort'd finally rest in peace.

„Don't ever call me sweet again.“

„Okay. Noted.“

When his shift ends, I drag Malfoy outside the club, into the nearest alley.

He looks at me with light eyes as I push him against the wall and start kissing him.

Kissing Malfoy feels completely different than kissing Ginny. I'm not sure it's just because his lips are thinner, his chin more pointy, his jaw sharper. I'm not sure it's because he is tall and blonde and his eyes are gray.

I'm not sure why. Maybe I really am gay. Maybe I wasn't attracted to Ginny at all.

Kissing Malfoy makes me hot all over. It makes me moan and it makes me desperate. I keep trying to get closer, even though we're already pressed flush.

„Someone's eager,“ Malfoy murmurs through swollen lips.

I don't answer, but instead suck a hickey into the soft skin of his neck. Malfoy has the perfect skin for hickeys. Smooth and pale and soft. I think I could do this all night.

„A hickey, Potter? Really?“

I move back up and kiss his lips again. Then I nip at his bottom lip.

He sucks in a breath and his hands grip my hips.

„Do you want to go back to yours?“ he asks and I nod – then shake my head.

„Ron's there.“

I want him. I want him I want him I want him. I don't know how to say it. I don't know what to do.

„Pity,“ Malfoy says, exposing his throat for me.

„Maybe... yours?“ I ask, tentatively.

„I... I'd rather not.“

„Okay.“

I pull back a little, my hands still fisted into his shirt.

„What do you want, Potter?“

He traces the shape of my face with one finger. My breath hitches.

„You.“ I blush, but I'm beyond shame.

„Maybe – well, alright. You can come to mine.“

I beam at him and he shakes his head, but can't quite hide his smile. When he side-alongs me, I bury my face in his neck.

„This is Pansy's room,“ he says and pulls me with him.

The apartment has only two rooms, a tiny kitchen and something I assume must be the bathroom.

„I like your apartment,“ I say as we're kissing in his small room. It's hardly big enough for both of us to stand.

„I don't,“ he says, then starts sucking on my jaw and I moan.

His bed is right there. I pull him down with me. He lifts his head and pushes the hair out of my face.

„What do you want?“ he asks again.

I shrug. I don't know. Malfoy studies my face. Traces my scar.

„I know you don't know how to ask for things, but I need you to talk to me about this.“

My heart stops. It just stops right in my chest.

His gray gaze is more tender than I ever thought it could be.

„I... can I give you a blow job?“

Malfoy blinks. His lips part. „Is that – do you want to?“

„Yeah. I just don't really know how to.“

He looks at me, still disbelieving.

„That's alright.“

Regaining some of his composure, he smirks. „I won't judge.“

I swallow and smile and feel my heart beating in my chest. I feel alive.

Malfoy flips us around and I start unbuttoning his shirt with shaky fingers. Malfoy helps me and then his pale chest is exposed.

I stop and stare.

„It doesn't matter.“

„Your chest -“

The scars cut right through me, silver on his pale skin. There are so many.

A long finger lifts my chin. „It was a long time ago. We were young and stupid.“

„I hurt you.“

„And I hurt you. Let's just – let's not talk about it right now, okay?“

I swallow and resume pressing kisses to his skin. Malfoy sighs, his hand carding through my hair as I slowly head south.

The Slytherin isn't very muscley – lean and fit, but no big pecs or arms. I don't care. I like it. Maybe I like slender men. Prefer them, even.

I kiss his belly and I can't help but think he's got the cutest belly-button I've ever seen.

„You're so pretty,“ I whisper and feel stupid.

Malfoy laughs, but it is a warm laugh. „Thanks, Potter. So are you.“

Something hot shoots through me. His hand is warm on my head as I open his fly. He helps me pushing his pants down and then his underwear.

My breath catches. I just look.

„You alright there?“ Malfoy peers down at me, propping himself up on his elbows.

He's so unashamed, so confident in his body – where did the insecure boy go? He's changed. Like so many other things.

But this change, I like.

„Yeah,“ I say.

„You don't have to. Honestly. I know it's all – a lot in the beginning.“

I blink and dip my head, kissing him. Malfoy moans. He's staring at me and somehow, that makes it so much hotter. I put my hands on his hips and he has his hands in my hair and I kiss and lick and breathe.

„Merlin, Potter.“

I try to take him down my throat and choke, having to pull back quickly.

Hands are stroking through my hair.

„Sorry,“ I say.

„It's fine. I like it.“

When I want to try again, he pulls my head back.

„Always so over-eager. Just keep doing what you did before.“

So I stop trying to go deeper and just suck and use my hand.

„Fuck, I'll -“

I stay where I am and he comes into my mouth.

Eventually, I have to draw back, feeling come dripping over my chin. It doesn't really taste good – the texture is slimy and it's kind of bitter, but I lick my lips anyway.

Malfoy stares at me. „You're impossible.“

I just grin at him, feeling dazed and stupid and hard.

„Come here.“

He pulls me up and I go with him willingly. I'm surprised when he kisses me (my mouth tastes like cum, afterall) and I'm surprised how much I like that he does.

„Is it my turn now?“ he asks, lips only inches apart from mine, teasing smirk on his face.

„Show me how it's done,“ I say.

„Watch out!“

Ron's shout comes too late – the bludger has already hit my shoulder full on, almost knocking me off my broom.

„Shit – sorry, Harry.“ George grimaces and flies over to me.

„It's okay. I just wasn't paying attention.“

I put a hand on my throbbing shoulder.

It's not the first time playing Quidditch with the Weasleys that someone ends up injured – the field is just too small and the players too strong.

„Didn't think the youngest seeker in a century would be too slow to dodge my bludger,“ George says, winking at me.

I smile back. I think we're all still amazed everytime George makes a joke.

„Let's call it a day,“ Ginny says, smoothing a hand over her short hair.

Ron follows me inside. „You're really distracted lately,“ he observes.

Ginny taps her wand to my shoulder. The pain immediately starts to lessen.

„You are,“ she agrees.

With a smirk at me, she asks: „Is there someone we should know about?“

I laugh, thinking of blond hair and nimble fingers. „Not really.“

The siblings exchange a look.

„Not really? So there _is_ someone?“ Ginny asks, curiousity flashing in her eyes.

„It's nothing serious,“ I say.

Ron's eyebrows almost disappear in his fringe and Ginny leans her hip against the counter, tilting her head.

„Since when are you one for nothing serious?“ Ginny asks – not in a judging tone, simply astonished.

„Don't know. Since a week or so?“

I rub my neck.

„Wow. Good for you, mate.“ Ron gives me a clap on the shoulder and Ginny smirks like a cat. Sometimes I really miss having her around all the time.

I look at Ron and the words are bubbling up in my throat, pressing against my teeth. „Ron?“

„Yeah?“

„I'm gay.“

Ron blinks, then smiles a little. „Okay, nice. Thanks for sharing.“

A couple of heavy, heavy stones are lifted from my chest and I break out in a wide grin.

„Oh, but – no intercourse while I'm in the apartment. Kick me out prior, yeah?“

I laugh, then shudder in disgust. „Definitely.“

I look at Ginny. I'm not sure how it feels when your ex tells you your actually into the other gender. Despite being replaced with a girl, I know Ginny was actually attracted to me.

„What?“ she asks.

„Um... are you mad?“

She rolls her eyes. „Merlin, Harry. I knew.“

„Really?“

She gives me a wry look and pats my arm. „You're speaking to the girl who used to sleep with you. I... know.“

„Oh. Well, sorry for making you have such bad sex?“

She laughs and Ron groans.

„That's enough,“ he says and now I'm laughing too.

„So you're seeing a guy?“ Ron asks, smiling at me.

I shrug. „Kind of. I mean, we aren't exactly going on fancy dates, if you get what I mean.“

Ron makes a weird face and Ginny grins.

„Who is it?“ she asks.

„It doesn't matter.“

„Oh, he's a secret, then. Is he hot?“ Ginny's eyes are gleaming.

I roll my eyes. Then smile. „Yeah. He's alright.“

„Do we know him?“ Ron asks.

„Not really.“

Ron looks at his sister. „I bet it's Draco Malfoy. Harry's making that face again.“

Ginny laughs and my stomach drops into the basement.

„What?“

Ron grins at me. „You're having your _I'm-not-obsessed_ -face again.“

„I don't have such a thing,“ I say, mildly offended – and still completely panicked.

„Yeah, whatever. But, no – I bet the guy you're hooking up with isn't as posh as Malfoy.“

Ginny grins. „I agree. Harry likes the pretty boys that get really dirty in bed.“

„Hey!“

Ron grimaces. „Now I'm thinking about how Malfoy is in bed. Merlin and Morgana, I'm gonna be sick.“

„That was all very funny. Ready to drop it now?“ I ask.

Ginny and Ron both snicker.

„Sure, Harry.“

„What do you do all day?“ Malfoy asks me as I pull my shirt over my head.

„What do you mean?“

He looks at me, lounging on his bed, pale torso naked. It's hard not to lean back down and press kisses to it.

Malfoy's nipples are so tiny, it's almost ridiculous. I think mine are, like – more than twice their size.

„You said you don't work. So, what do you do?“

„Work on your book? Shag you senseless?“

Malfoy arches an eyebrow. „I didn't know I was the center of your universe, Potter. Should I be flattered?“

„Fuck off.“

For some reason, that makes Malfoy laugh. He sits up and lightly bites my shoulder. My lashes flutter.

„And you have yet to shag me senseless.“

„I just did.“

I blew him until he wasn't saying anything but _fuck fuck fuck_ and came a second after him over my own hand.

„Oh, you think that was me shagged senseless? You must have had some really bad sex, then.“

I fidget and turn to him. „Is it bad for you?“

He blinks, the hard line aronud his mouth almost disappearing. „Shagging you?“

„Yeah. You don't like it?“

Malfoy rolls his eyes and runs one finger over my arm. „I wouldn't be here if I didn't, would I? I'm simply saying there are still a lot of things I could show you.“

I grin and lean in closer, until our breaths are mixing.

„Oh, yeah? Like what?“

He bites my bottom lip.

This one's a vampire, I'm almost sure.

„Hm... I'll tell you next time.“

„Okay,“ I say. I get up, then remember something and turn again. „Could you teach me the, you know – protection spells? Ginny said they're a little different when it's gay sex.“

Malfoy frowns. „You told Weasley about us?“

„Not you. Just that I'm having sex with a guy.“

„I see. Don't worry, I always cast the charms. I'm not keen on catching something from you, Potter.“

I raise my brows.

„I'd still like to know them. I don't always want to be dependent on my partner. Not everyone's as responsible as you.“

Malfoy's eyes darken. The line around his mouth deepens. „Certainly. I'll show you.“

„You can't be fucking serious, Hermione! This is – you're completely -“

I drop the bags of groceries as quietly as possible and toe off my shoes before entering the living room. Ron and Hermione are standing on opposite sides of the room, screaming at each other.

I have a sudden flashback to that time in the tent and unease is flaring in my stomach. This time, I don't have Hermione's wand.

„I told you I'm sorry!“ Hermione's voice catches. „I'm not doing this to mess with you.“

„Really? Because that's what it bloody feels like.“ Ron is shouting so loudly, spit is flying from his mouth.

„Guys, calm down.“

They're both turning to me.

Ron's eyes are almost manic as he points at Hermione. „You know what she just told me, Harry?“

„No, I don't. Ron -“

„She just said that she _thinks_ she still _loves_ me. That she'd like to try again. Can you believe it?“

Ron's chest is heaving. Hermione has tears in her eyes.

„I just thought you should know,“ she says, voice trembling.

„I don't want to! I don't want to know, Hermione, okay? You know how fucking hard it was to finally move on? And then I do and you come back to fuck me over again.“

„I'm not perfect, Ron. I always forgave you when you were being unfair. And now you can't deal with me being confused?“

Ron shakes his head. „No, I can't deal with that. Not at all.“

„I'm not making you do anything,“ she says, her lips pressed together. „I'm just telling you how I feel.“

„Yeah, I didn't ask you,“ Ron says and Hermione flinches as if he'd have hit her.

„I think you should leave,“ he says and Hermione does, pushing past me.

When she closes the door behind her, I can hear a sob. Ron just stand there, burying his face in his hands. Cautiously, I step over and drape an arm around his shoulders.

„I can't believe it,“ he says, voice rough.

„I'm sorry,“ I say because I don't know what to do.

„Why now?“ He looks up at me, blue eyes red-rimmed. „I'm with Hannah now.“

„I know.“

„I really hate Hermione right now.“

„You don't hate her,“ I say. It's my worst nightmare.

„Not really. But I do.“

I remove my arm from around him and make him a cup of tea. He's sitting on our couch, staring into nothingness.

„What do I do now?“ he asks me.

I bite my lip and run my palms over my jeans. „I can't tell you.“

„Me neither.“

„Do you still love her?“ I ask, quietly.

I'm not sure whom I mean.

Ron looks into his cup.

„I do,“ he says, quietly. „But I just don't know if it's enough.“

„I just don't know if we could even work.“

Hermione wipes her hair out of her face, hands fluttering and bouncing from one shelf to the next. She halts in front of one with an impressive collection on politics books. I shove my hands into my pockets and wait.

„I mean, do I still love him – yes. Of course I do. But if he wants to be with Hannah, well – it might be for the best anyway.“

I blink. „Um, Hermione...“

„It's not like I need him. I don't need a man at all. I'm perfectly fine on my own. I just thought it would be nice, you know, to reconnect? Because you can't tell me he's over me. His reaction clearly shows -“

„Hermione,“ I cut her off.

Two pairs of Slytherin eyes are looking at us curiously.

Malfoy looks particularly stylish today in fitted trousers and a casual button down. I wonder if he knows that it seems vain to spend so much thought on your appearance.

Parkison next to him could be his girlfriend, with her dark coat to her thighs and high heels. Her dark hair is shorter than it was in school, her skin pale. She's got the same line around her mouth that Malfoy has.

„Hello, Potter. Hermione.“ Malfoy nods at us, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt.

„Oh. Hi.“ A faint blush has appeared on Hermione's cheeks.

„How – how are you?“ she asks, gaze flicking from one Slytherin to the other.

„Very well, thank you,“ Parkinson says. She's looking at me curiously.

„Well, we were just on our way to...“ I look at Hermione, mind blank and mildly panicking.

She gazes at me for a moment with confused eyes, then smiles. „Right. The brush for Crookshanks. He destroyed his last one,“ she tells Malfoy and Parkinson.

„I'll see you around,“ she says and I basically drag her out of the shop.

I can feel Malfoy's eyes on my back as if it were his fingertips.

Malfoy is pressing me against his door, his mouth hot on mine, his fingers already lifting the hem of my shirt.

I kiss him back, then say: „Ron and Hermione are fighting again.“

Malfoy blinks at me. „That's unfortunate.“ He pulls my shirt off, then presses up against me, hands digging into my hips.

„I don't know what to do to help,“ I say.

Malfoy draws back. „You want to talk about your friends right now?“

„Of course not.“

I stare at him.

He stares back.

„Well – what are they fighting about?“ he asks me, taking a tiny step back.

„Hermione is still in love with him. She told him a few days ago. They had a huge fight.“

„Because Weasley is now with someone else?“

I nod. Malfoy puts one hand on my lower back and guides me to the kitchen.

„Do you like your tea sweet or more on the herbal side?“ he asks.

Malfoy's kitchen is tiny. It's really, really tiny and doesn't look like his at all. Beside his huge tea collection, maybe.

„Not too sweet,“ I say and he nods and starts boiling water.

„And Weasley was mad because he also is still in love with Granger, but spent most of his time over the last year to forget her?“

„Yeah,“ I say. „I just don't know if they should try it again. I mean, maybe Hermione only thinks she loves him because he's about to move on.“

„Perhaps.“ I watch Malfoy making tea. He has a way of making every movement deliberate. Full of purpose. I think he reminds me of a dancer.

„Why did they break up in the first place?“ Malfoy asks.

I sigh. „Ron was in a bad place. He was drinking too much and sulking and Hermione just couldn't bear it anymore. So she left him and had a fling with Terry Boot while Ron was seeing a therapist so he wouldn't jump off the next bridge.“

Malfoy's pale eyes are on me. „You're angry at her.“

I bite my lip and look away. „Not really. I mean – I get it. But... she just left. I was sort of counting on her to be there, and then she just left.“

Understanding lights Malfoy's eyes.

„You feel like she took away your freedom.“

I frown at him. „What? No. What do you mean? I wasn't even there when all that went down.“

„That's the point, isn't it? You needed to escape for a while. And you thought everyone would be alright without you for the moment. You thought you wouldn't have to save anyone anymore. You thought Granger was there for your friend and then she wasn't and you feel like she betrayed you.“

I swallow. Swallow again. Malfoy hands me my tea. I take it, burning my fingers. „You're wrong.“

He tilts his head and leans his hip against the counter. „Am I?“

I look at the tea assortment he left open on the counter.

„There is nothing wrong with you for feeling that way.“

„People always expect me to be there,“ I say, swallowing. I don't know why I keep having to swallow. Maybe I'm getting sick. „They always expect me to make everything right. But I can't.“

„No one could. And it's okay to not want to, sometimes.“

I look at him and set my tea down. With one step, I've crossed the distance between us. I haul him in and kiss him roughly. Malfoy makes a little gasp that I respond to with a groan and then I lift him up and put him down on the counter. It's a little messy – Malfoy isn't as light as he looks and I'm not as strong as people think I am, but now he's tilting his head down and kissing me.

„You don't know me, Malfoy,“ I say.

„No,“ he agrees, crossing his wrists behind my head.

„Not at all,“ I say.

We kiss until we have to come up for air. I feel dizzy and turned-on and still a little as if I'd be coming down with something.

„What do you want?“ he asks me, his eyes a shade darker, like they always are when he's mad or turned on.

I hesitate.

„You can ask me for anything,“ he says, breathless and I can't think about his words too closely or it'll make me confused.

„Show me. Show me whatever – show me what you like.“

Malfoy gives me an assessing look that makes me blush.

„Alright,“ he finally says. „Let's go to my bed room.“

I wonder what people would think if they'd know I let Draco Malfoy put his fingers up my ass.

They'd be scandalised. They'd think of me as foul and defiled.

I'm not sure if it turns me on or if I hate thinking of it.

„You still want to?“ Malfoy asks me, lips moving against my shoulder.

I nod.

It's strange, lying on my stomach, on display for Malfoy of all people. I never thought I'd ever do something like this. I never thought I could yearn for it so much.

„You can always tell me to stop,“ Malfoy says and I groan.

„Jesus, Malfoy. Stop fucking around.“

„Spread your legs,“ he says and a furious blush is creeping from my cheeks down my neck, over my back. Malfoy must see.

But I comply.

I comply and breathe and dig my fingers into the covers that smell like Malfoy. At first, it just feels weird. It doesn't hurt, it's just – new.

I never touched myself there. Ever. I don't know what to expect.

Teeth are nipping on my shoulder and the finger sinks in deeper and my skin feels overstimulated already. Every brush of Malfoy's lips over my skin has goosebumps rising on my arms.

„Fuck, you're so tight.“

Something white-hot is shooting through my belly at his words, a heat deep behind my navel. I moan and my knuckles turn white. With a little twist of his finger, Malfoy touches something inside me, something that has my toes curl. I shout.

I shout because of a twist of Malfoy's finger. I should be embarrassed, but – oh my God. This feels like nothing I've ever experienced. It's a searing, pulsing kind of pleasure deep inside me, a pleasure that is almost too intense to bear and yet, so much more patient than the pleasure I know.

„You like that?“ Malfoy's breath is ghosting over my neck and I can only nod, my mouth open, panting.

„Yeah.“

He does that twist again and I'm gone, humping the sheets and pushing back and moaning.

„Oh my God, Draco.“

I hardly notice the hitch in his breath – I'm so desperate for his touch. When he slips in another finger, it burns and I hiss. Kisses are pressed to the base of my neck.

„Relax. It'll be so good, I promise.“

He keeps his promise.

I keen and curse and beg until he finally sneaks his free hand under my body, everything a little messy, the angle awkward and strokes me until I come, almost sobbing with the force of it.

I'm slowly coming back to myself with the Slytherin stroking my hair, my head on his chest. When I feel like I can speak again, I lift my head and smirk into his face.

„Who thought you're a cuddler, Malfoy?“

He yanks his hand away and glares at me. „I'm just waiting for you to gather enough brain cells to finally make me come, you prick.“

I smile, drowsily. „Sorry, but you just shagged me senseless.“

Malfoy turns his head away, but I can see his smile. He's proud. „I know, Potter.“

„Maybe... you could, you know...“

I blush again. Which is ridiculous. He just had his fingers inside me. I shouldn't be embarrassed anymore.

„Use your words,“ he says.

„You could wank. Here. I could watch you.“

A slow smirk plays around Malfoy's lips. „Like to watch, don't you?“

I gaze at him. „I don't know.“

„I think you do. You've always stalked me, back in school.“

I bite my lip. „That just means I like watching _you_ , doesn't it?“

Malfoy swallows.

„Then watch me,“ he says, voice rough.

Looking at Malfoy while he's touching himself might just be the most erotic experience of my life.

He doesn't make that much noise (unlike I just did), but his face is contorted and the noise he does make – it's like a little kitten, almost. I should tell him that – he'll be furious.

When he comes all over my belly, I feel like I just caught the snitch.

* * *

I'm writing when Pansy tiptoes into my room.

Well – I was trying to write. I was actually thinking about Potter.

I haven't owled him since last time I saw him. I just – get distracted. I get distracted around him and I don't want to be distracted. It's important not to forget what's important.

„You're not even dressed,“ Pansy says as she hops onto my bed.

She's wearing her sweats – her go-to outfit for her way to the club. She'll get dressed there. Only to get undressed on stage a few minutes later.

„I'll be quick,“ I say.

„Did you wash the sheets after Potter left?“

I glare at her. „I always wash the sheets.“ I'm lying. I didn't wash the sheets the night Potter left. Maybe the smell of sex is somehow hot, lingering in my sheets. Maybe I was hoping for sex dreams.

„No, you didn't. I did,“ Pansy says.

Of course she's right.

„You're a fool, Draco,“ she says, dark eyes on me.

„Why am I a fool now?“

„You have to end this thing with Potter.“

I arch a brow. „I'm fucking the Chosen One. I really don't think anyone in their right mind would say no to that.“

„But you're not in your right mind, honey. Not when it comes to him.“

„It was forever ago,“ I say, jaw set.

„It was two years ago. And we both know that -“

„I'm _over_ it, Pans.“

„You're sleeping with him.“

„I just help him figuring out how to be gay.“

Pansy snorts. „That's what you call it? Let me assure you, there are a ton of guys who'd trip all over themselves to help Potter figuring out _how to be gay_.“

„But I'm the best,“ I say, trying to make things lighter.

„You're just an arrogant prick.“

„Who'd have thought that you and Potter actually agree on some things.“

Pansy sighs. „Come on. We have to go to work.“

I don't particularly like working when Pansy is.

It's not that I have a problem with seeing her naked. We've showered together before and she gave me a blow job once (to practice, she'd said) and overall, we're just very comfortable being naked around each other.

But I don't like the men leering at her. Pansy is strong and confident and I know there are not many people who have the power to hurt her, but still... I don't like my best friend being stared at as if she was a piece of meat.

„Hey.“

I blink and tear my eyes away from the pole.

„Potter.“ I didn't expect him here. We don't really meet at the club anymore.

„Is that Parkinson?“ Potter looks at the pole.

„Yes,“ I say curtly.

„She looks stunning,“ he says and I narrow my eyes at him.

„What do you want?“

He shrugs and tries for a flirtatious smile. „Do I have to explain that to you?“

I study his face. „You look sick.“

„Just a cold.“ He sniffles.

„I'm not fucking you with a snotty nose,“ I say.

Potter blinks. He almost looks like a kicked puppy. „Oh. Okay.“ He makes to stand.

Before I can remind myself that I'm actually a quite smart guy, I've reached over the counter and grabbed his arm. „You can stay, if you like. I can make you a drink.“

Potter smiles. „Okay.“

I prepare him something not too sweet and he smiles at me when he takes a sip.

„Is it non-alcoholic?“ he asks, frowning a little.

„You shouldn't drink when you're sick,“ I say.

He gives me a look. „You're sweet.“

That earns him a death glare. He really needs to stop saying that.

„How are Weasley and Granger?“ I ask because I have to say something, I guess.

Potter looks into his glass. „I don't know. Hermione is trying to talk herself into believing that Ron and her could never work in the first place and Ron just keeps ranting about how she's out to fuck with his life.“

„Sounds like they're in love,“ I say.

Potter sighs. „Yeah, but... I don't know. I think maybe Hermione is right. Maybe they're not good for each other.“

„Why do you say that?“

„Sometimes I feel like they bring out the worst in each other. And sometimes it's like they're balancing each other out – I just don't know.“

„I think Granger needs to see what else is out there first,“ I say.

I never understood how Granger could fancy a Weasley – and Ronald of all people. She's way too smart for him.

„She had a year to do that.“

„A year in Hogwarts during which she spent most time studying?“ I arch an eyebrow at him.

„Yeah. I think that's the problem. Ron just wants – he just wants someone safe. Someone he knows will love him and put him first and say yes when he proposes.“

Potter stares into his drink thoughtfully.

„I don't think Granger is that someone,“ I say. „But you know them better.“

Potter looks at me and rests his elbow on the counter. „What about you? Any exes? I mean – you don't have a boyfriend right now, do you?“

I smile a little. „Nope. And I never really had one, either.“

Potter's eyes widen. „What? No. You're kidding.“

I give him a bewildered look. „Why would I be? I don't need someone who gives me back rubs and cooks me dinner.“

„Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's not why people have relationships,“ he says.

I shrug. „I'm good on my own.“

„Okay. So you never dated?“

I cut a piece of lime, ignoring the looks one of the guys at the bar keeps throwing me. „Depends on what you define as dating. I did go out. But not really to the movies.“

„So you just...?“

„I mostly just fuck, yes, Potter. Do you have a problem with that?“

„No.“

„Good.“

We're quiet for a moment.

„So you didn't have anyone in Romania?“ I ask.

„Just the dragons.“

„Doesn't that get boring?“

„You think dragons are boring?“ The smile he gives me, the raised eyebrow, makes me wonder if he's talking about me.

„Not at all. But... if it's _just_ that? All day, every day?“

Potter grins. „I like _just_ dragons.“

I swallow and he casts his eyes down.

„I mean, yes – it was pretty hard. But that was why I have never missed that much, I think. They kept me busy the whole day and when I went to bed at night, I was absolutely dead,“ he says.

„I can imagine.“ I don't think I'd like working on a dragon farm.

„How did you get the scars?“ I ask.

I've seen them, but didn't ask.

„The one on my arm is from a baby dragon. They're super wild and they just want to play all day. She didn't even realize that she almost grilled my whole arm.“ Potter shrugs as if it was nothing.

„And the one on your back?“

He frowns. „I was trying to give some of the babies a potion for their weak scales. Their mama didn't like that at all and got me from behind when I wasn't looking.“

„It looks very painful,“ I say.

The scar is thick and angry, the raised flesh hard under my fingers.

„It was pretty bad, yeah. But I survived.“

Potter shrugs and smiles at me lazily. His eyes are a little glossy.

„You should go to bed, Potter.“

„I can't. Ron has Hannah over. We already made a deal that we'd never run into each other shagging.“

„That is understandable. I'd probably be scarred for life if I'd see Weasley's freckled ass.“

That makes Potter laugh. „Not into gingers?“

„Not really. Are you?“

„I thought I was. But... I don't know. I don't think I care about stuff like that.“

„You care more about what's between the legs, don't you, Potter?“

Potter rolls his eyes. „No, you git. I care about... chemistry.“

„Certainly, Potter. You know, you don't have to play good person with me. I already know you're a slut.“

For a moment, I worry that was too much (and then curse myself for worrying), but Potter just smirks. „You bring it out in me.“

I have to look away.

„But, really – I think I'd fuck you if you had a vagina, too,“ he muses.

My lips stretch into a smile. „Vagina? Didn't know you could be so prude.“

He rolls his eyes.

„Really? You would?“ I ask then.

He gives me a long, open look, as if imagining it and contemplating. „Yeah, I think so. You could ride me all night. It would be brilliant.“

I know I'm blushing and my trouseres feel too tight. „I can do that now as well.“

Now he's blushing too and then our eyes lock and we both start laughing.

„I started teacher training.“

Ginny looks at me in surprise. „Wow. That's cool. Really cool.“ Her smile is so proud that I have to look away.

„Yeah, I don't know. We'll see.“ I hold out my hand and she gives me another piece from the awesome cake Molly baked. It's with bananas and apples and cinnamon and I'm sure Malfoy would love it. He's such a terrible sucker for everything sweet.

„I'll try out for the Harpies next year,“ Ginny says, dipping her cake in coffee.

She dips everything in coffee – I'll never understand it.

„That's cool, too.“

„Did you talk to Ron about Hermione?“ she suddenly asks through a mouthful of cake.

„I feel like all I'm talking about with Ron lately is Hermione.“

„He loves her,“ Ginny says.

„Yeah.“

„He needs to break up with Hannah.“

„You think so?“

She nods. „I broke up with you when I realized that I liked Luna. I didn't want to cheat. Ron will cheat if he doesn't break up with Hannah soon.“

I flinch. „No, he wouldn't. Ron isn't like that.“

„Everyone is like that at a certain point,“ Ginny says.

„Not Ron.“

She sighs. „Whatever. When do you start training?“

„Next week.“

„That's soon.“

„Yeah. I'm nervous.“

She smiles her warm smile and ruffles my hair with her greasy fingers. „It'll be fine. You're a good teacher.“

„I'm not so sure.“

„I am. You just need to believe in yourself.“

„That's too cliché for you, Ginny.“

„You're right.“

I finish my second piece of cake and she asks me: „How are things going with your mystery shag?“

I wipe the crumbs off my fingers. They're moist and sticky.

„Good. I guess.“

Ginny gives me A Look. „Good enough to finally start dating?“

„Jesus, no. We're just... it's not like that.“

„Why not?“

To my own surprise, I have to think about her question for a moment.

„We're different. Our lives are different. We want different things.“

„But different can be exciting.“

„Not that kind of different.“

„But do you like him?“

„No. I mean – I like him. Somehow. I'm shagging him, so, of course I like him somehow. But not – like that.“

„Will you finally tell me who it is?“ she asks.

„I won't,“ I say and reach for a third piece of cake.

It's the middle of the night when I'm woken up by a patronus. I'm positive I've never seen this pretty bird before – it's gliding through the air, embodiment of elegance.

I blink my eyes open as it starts to speak. With Draco Malfoy's voice.

„I need your help,“ the patronus says. „Some men from the club are besieging our apartment and we can't get in. I don't know where to go.“

I sit up in my bed and call my own patronus.

„Thanks for having us,“ Malfoy says as he's entering my apartment with Parkinson.

They both look tired. I want to smooth out the line around Malfoy's mouth.

„It's fine,“ I say and that's the moment Ron comes padding into the living room, clad in his thin pajama bottoms.

„Oh. Didn't know we're having guests,“ he says and crosses his arms in front of his naked chest. He's still self-conscious about his body.

„Me neither,“ I say and smile and wonder how the hell we're supposed to survive this awkwardness.

„What brings you here?“ Ron asks the Slytherins.

„There's a mob in front of our apartment,“ Parkinson says, smoothing down her hair. She's wearing heavy make up.

„And you came here... why exactly?“

„Malfoy sent me his patronus and I invited them,“ I say.

Ron looks at me. Then at Malfoy.

Then back at me.

„Merlin and Morgana, you really are. You really are shagging Malfoy.“

All the blood in my body rushes into my face and I start stammering. Malfoy swallows. Parkinson looks bored. Ron looks at me with an expression of utter astonishment.

„You do know I was just joking, right? When I said it's probably Malfoy you're shagging. That was just a joke.“ He gazes at Malfoy. „Merlin and Morgana. I think I need a drink.“

„Um, Ron?“ I look after him as he reaches for the bottle of firewhiskey that we opened yesterday.

„Could I get one, too?“ Parkinson asks as if everything would be perfectly fine.

Ron returns with two glasses.

„You know,“ he says after throwing back the liquor. „There are many gay men out there. Like, _many_. And probably all of them want to shag you, Harry.“

„That's what I said,“ Parkinson mutters and gives Malfoy a look.

I don't know what to say. This whole situation is so strange, I almost think I must be dreaming.

„So many men and you choose Malfoy.“ Ron keeps looking at me and shakes his head. „Why, Harry? He's a former Death Eater. You know that, right? You remember him calling Hermione mudblood? You remember me spitting slugs, yeah? You remember that, don't you?“

„Technically, the slug incident was your fault,“ Malfoy says and Ron snorts.

„Why?“ Ron asks me again, eyes desperate.

„Potter just loves my cock so much, Weasley,“ Malfoy says and I hiss at him.

Ron makes a wounded noise.

„Look, Ron, I – can we talk about it later?“

Ron pours himself another shot.

„Do you hate me now?“ I ask.

The ginger gives me a long look. „Hate you? Of course not. Worry about your sanity? Definitely. Definitely, defnitely.“

I smile cautiously. „I can live with that. I worry about my sanity sometimes, too.“

„Don't we all?“ Parkinson chimes in and I have to chuckle.

„Let's go clear out your apartment, yeah?“ Ron says, sounding resignated.


	3. Chapter 3

„We haven't worked on your book in a while,“ I say, wrapping my arms around Malfoy.

It's dangerous, doing that with our clothes on. Malfoy usually doesn't allow cuddling. He says it's against the rules. I didn't even know there were rules.

„I think that is because you prefer shagging me,“ the blond says and pulls me down on the bed with him.

I let myself be pulled and kiss the corner of his mouth.

„But it's important to you,“ I say.

Malfoy narrows his eyes at me. „Watch it, Potter.“

„Watch what?“ I kiss the corner of his mouth again.

Malfoy's lips are rather thin, but I find that I don't mind much. I like kissing him better than kissing Ginny.

Much better.

I guess I really am very gay.

He doesn't answer me anymore, instead slips his hands under my shirt and strokes them up my sides.

„I'll have to go back to Romania tomorrow,“ I say, my fingers in his hair.

Malfoy's hands come to a halt. „What?“

„Not permanently. Just a week or so. I have to help train some newbies. They're always short on experienced staff.“

„You've only worked there for a year.“

„I'm a natural with dragons,“ I say and grin at him.

„Alright. Have fun then.“

„Will you miss me?“ I ask, jokingly.

Malfoy bites down on my lip and then flips us.

„I'll miss this,“ he says and grinds his hips against my pelvis.

I groan and pull him closer.

„Fuck me,“ I say into his ear.

„What?“ He draws back. Looks into my face.

„Fuck me tonight. I want you to.“

Malfoy swallows thickly. „Alright. Yes. I can do that.“

I grin. „Good.“

He leans back down and for a while, we just kiss.

„Will you just snog me all night?“ I ask, one hand squeezing his narrow hip.

Malfoy is slimmer than me almost everywhere.

„Shut up,“ he says, turning his head away and yanking my trousers down.

I help him and say: „Not that I'd mind. I was just kinda hoping for a good shag.“

He gives me a look that makes my heart leap.

Malfoy takes his time, like he usually does, preparing me and whispering dirty things into my ear that aren't nearly as dirty as one would expect from a Malfoy.

They're actually quite sweet.

„Are you ready?“ Malfoy asks when I'm already squirming beneath him, three of his fingers inside me, chasing friction.

„Fuck, yeah. Fuck me, Malfoy. Please.“

The Slytherin groans and scrambles for the lube. I watch him impatiently, my heart hammering. For a split second, the thought crosses my mind how I'm just giving all of my firsts to Draco Malfoy, of all people.

But I can't remember anything ever feeling as right as Malfoy pushing into me.

It burns though. It burns and I grip his shoulders and try to adjust, but it's difficult.

„Hey. You okay?“ He's trembling, but waiting.

„Yeah, just -“ I bite my lip. I don't know how to relax. „Just keep going.“

Malfoy smiles, a little lopsidedly, and leans down, our noses brushing. „Always so impatient.“

He doesn't even kiss me – sort of just breathes against my skin.

„You feel so good,“ he tells me. It sounds like a quiet admission he just couldn't help but make.

I hold him tighter. Something inside me gives way.

„Keep going,“ I murmur and he does and it hurts and doesn't even really feel good in any way, but I want more. I just want more and more and Malfoy knows it.

„You'll love it, I promise. I promise, Harry. I'll make you love it.“

I moan a little and lock my ankles behind his back.

When he starts fucking me, the burn slowly transforms into something like molten lava – sweet, thick, liquid desire pulsing through my body, making my thighs tremble.

„Fuck, you're so good,“ I tell Draco.

I want him to call me Harry again.

„Harder,“ I moan and he complies and I can't think anymore when he hits that spot inside me. He's panting, mouth open, face close to mine.

„Draco,“ I moan and it comes out needier than anticipated. „Please, fuck me harder. Fuck me, I need you, fuck -“

„Oh God, Harry,“ he says and slams into me and it feels as if we'd be one.

I look into his eyes, pupils blown and I swear, what I see in them is...

„Make me come, please, make me come,“ I beg and he starts stroking me and I come almost on the spot, between our bellies, making everything sticky.

„Harry,“ Draco moans and I can feel him coming inside me.

„I could take you with me to Romania,“ I whisper into Draco's hair. His head is on my chest and our legs are entangled. „One more dragon wouldn't bother anyone. They probably wouldn't even notice.“

„You're a fool,“ Draco tells me.

I think I am.

A sex-crazed, post-orgasmic fool.

„Can I sleep here?“ I ask and pet Draco's hair. It's as silky as it looks.

He has some moles on his back. They are stark against his white skin. I want to count them with my lips.

„If you must,“ Draco says and I hold him a little tighter.

„I must.“

Nine days in Romania earn me new callouses on my fingers, a tiny scar on my ankle and a lot of confusion about Draco Malfoy.

Confusion because I think about him all the time.

I'd carry out the dung and think about his long fingers inside me. I'd polish Ina's scales and think about the loose strands of hair falling into his face as he's moving above me – inside me.

Those times are annoying. But they are not that confusing.

Confusing is when I randomly think of Draco's smile. It's when I make tea and remember that Draco likes his with a lot of sugar.

Those are not thoughts one should have about their fuckbuddy.

Because that's all Draco is meant to be.

I firecall Hermione when everyone else has already gone to sleep.

„Hello, Harry.“ She sounds tired, but glad to hear from me.

„Hi. How are you?“

I wait for her to talk a bit about her work and then ask: „Is it normal to think a lot about someone you're sleeping with?“

Hermione blinks. „Could you be a little bit more specific?“

„Like – is it normal to think about them in a non-sexual context? How often should you think about past fucks?“

I wonder if Ron told her about Draco. I'd guess no, but I can't be sure. She knows I made out with him, but I didn't really tell her that I've been shagging him for weeks.

Hermione sighs. „Harry, what are you asking me?“

I frown at her. „What do you mean? I asked you if you think it's normal.“

„Aren't you asking me if thinking about someone you're sleeping with a lot means you've caught feelings?“

I'm silent.

„And don't you know the answer to that question already?“

I swallow. „I can't like him, Hermione.“

„Why not?“

„It's Draco Malfoy.“

She doesn't looked shocked in the least. I guess she knew all along. „Well, I'm sure the press won't be thrilled, but -“

„I'm not talking about the goddamn press! I mean – we've hated each other for so long.“

„You clearly don't hate each other now,“ Hermione says wryly.

„But I don't like him. I just like having sex with him.“

„Really, Harry? You don't like talking to him? Spending time with him?“

I open my mouth. Close it again.

„I don't want to like him,“ I finally say.

„It's not a conscious decision,“ she says gently.

I stare into the flames.

I'm in trouble.

„What if he hasn't changed? What if he's just manipulating me?“

„Harry, you know him better than I do.“

„But I don't know if I can trust him.“

She's waiting for me to go on. „I don't know – how would we ever work? He's a bartender in Knockturn Alley. He likes shiny things and too much sugar and I...“

„What do you like?“

_What do you want?_

„I don't know. I just... want someone who doesn't think I'm perfect.“

„Well, I don't think Draco thinks you're perfect.“

„I didn't grow up with fancy dinner parties and jewels and a lot of books.“

„No, but now you're the rich one of the two of you. So much has changed. Do you really want to let the past define you?“

I stare at her.

„I gotta go. I have to think,“ I say. „Thanks, Hermione.“

She smiles at me. „Anytime.“

I don't sleep that night.

I lie in bed and think about Draco. Think about us.

When dawn slowly chases away the blackness and the stars of the night, I come to several conclusions.

The most important one is that I, in fact, like Draco. Maybe even more than like, but I can't admit it yet, not even to myself.

Then it's also obvious that a relationship between us would never be easy. I work at day to become a teacher, while he's taking night shifts at a strip club. Our friends are from different planets and so are we. I'm not quite sure how we'd make it work.

But I know now that I want to try.

The first stop I make when I get back to England is Draco's apartment.

He isn't there.

I wait for an hour, but no one comes, so I finally accept my bad luck and apparate to my own apartment.

„I'm back,“ I shout.

Ron comes sauntering into the living room.

„Hi, mate. How was Romania?“

„Good. You probably haven't seen Draco?“

Ron rubs his neck. „Um, actually – there is something that you should probably know.“

My blood runs cold at Ron's tone.

„What is it?“

„He was arrested two days ago.“

Cold blood turns into ice.

„What for?“ I ask, voice flat.

„He tried to kill someone.“

It came to a fight right outside the club, Ron says. In a dirty alley. Between Draco and Parkinson and three men. Draco struck first, Ron says. At least that what the Aurors say.

If the Aurors hadn't arrived in time, Draco would have killed all three, Ron says.

He's sorry, he finally says. He's really sorry for me.

I don't say anything and go to my room. I curl up on my bed and hug my knees to my chest.

Trust is an odd thing.

Most people are bad at handling it. Some people trust too easily, which other people then use to fuck with them. Some people have a hard time trusting anyone at all, always afraid to be betrayed. A lot of the time, a person starts out as member of the first category and then turns into one of the second.

When it comes to me – I don't think I find it very hard to trust people.

I mean, I don't trust easily. Definitely not. But I am able to trust. I trust Ron. I trust Hermione.

But do I trust Draco Malfoy?

I'm not sure. I don't think I do.

But do I not trust him? Enough to believe he deserves to get locked up in Azkaban?

The Draco I know wouldn't just attack someone in a dirty alley. Not if he didn't have a good reason.

And yet... maybe I'm wrong. Afterall, I also thought Dumbledore wouldn't be the kind of person who groomed me for slaughter.

By now, I honestly believe that you hardly ever know anyone. Not even yourself.

People can always surprise you and Draco has gone through so much changes – how could I claim to know who he is?

I think about Draco on the Astronomy tower, wand trembling in his hand. Unable to cast the curse.

But then I think about Draco throwing a Cruciatus at me.

Which I countered with slicing his chest open. His blood on the tiles, mixing with the water.

I get up. It's time I pay the Ministry another visit.

„This is confidential information,“ the Auror tries to explain to me. „He isn't yet allowed to have visitors. Not before the trial.“

„I've spoken to the Minister about it,“ I say.

I did not. But I'm Harry Potter – I _could_ have spoken to him.

The Auror bites his lip. „Well – but only ten minutes.“

„Perfect.“

I give him a smile.

Seeing Draco behind bars does funny things to my chest.

„Draco,“ I say.

There is this pain again, sharper then ever before.

I don't think it means I'm getting sick.

The blond looks up. He's sitting on the floor, back against the cold stone wall. Something flares in his eyes that I can't recognize.

„Get the fuck out of here,“ he growls.

I want to get in there. I want to wrap my arms around him.

„Draco,“ I say again.

„Get out, Potter.“

I approach the bars. I want to reach through them and touch Draco's hand.

„What happened?“ I ask him.

I don't know why he looks at me like that. Like he'd hate me again.

„I tried to kill a man. Now piss off and don't come back.“

I flinch. „I don't believe you. Why did you do it?“

„Because I wanted to. Will you leave now?“

„Why are you doing this?“

My mouth is dry. He gives me a look that makes me sick.

„Why are you here, Potter? Did you think we're a couple? How sweet.“

„Draco.“ My mind is blank. My fingers are curled tightly around the bars.

„Well, we're not. I just liked fucking you for the thrill of it. Do you want me to tell everyone? That I've fucked the Chosen One? That you're a fucking whore for it?“

I let go of the bars.

„I still hate you. I always have. And now get out.“

I do as I'm told.

„I don't know what to do. He won't talk to me.“

Ron's voice is muffled. They're standing in front of my door.

I don't want to see them.

„He's hurt. Do you know what Draco said to him?“

That's Hermione.

„No idea. He won't talk.“

„Maybe there is something we can do.“

The next day, Hermione comes into my room unbidden.

I glare at her.

„I want to be alone,“ I say.

„I know. But I need to talk to you,“ she says and sits on my bed.

„I've talked to Parkinson and she told me that Draco only attacked those men because they attacked her. They were trying to rape her, Harry. He only wanted to protect his friend.“

I blink. Then slowly sit up. „Why wouldn't he just tell me that?“

„I don't know. But I think whatever he told you last time was a lie.“

The day of the trial comes and I'm sitting in the audience.

It's one of the worst days of my life.

Draco doesn't say much. He takes all the blame. He says Parkinson was just trying to help him.

He gets a sentence of ten years and I almost blow up the whole courtroom. He gets that sentence despite Parkinson's claims that she was assaulted, that Draco was trying to help.

They don't believe her.

Her sentence isn't nearly as bad as Draco's. After six months, she'll be free.

„This isn't right,“ Hermione says next to me, eyes narrowed.

Before I can think it through, I follow the guards that take Draco away. He looks so fragile between them.

„Stop,“ I shout, not knowing what to do.

They stop and turn to me. There is raw terror in Draco's eyes as he sees me.

I don't understand why.

„Is there a problem, Mr. Potter?“ one of the guards say.

„I -“

„We were just about to schedule a second trial with the Minister,“ Hermione says, one hand on my arm.

„And wanted to let you know,“ she finishes.

One guard just nods, apparently irritated. The other one's hand tightens around Draco's arm.

„Hey,“ I say, looking directly into his face. „You're hurting him.“

The guard loosens his grip a little and they take Draco away. That's when two other guards approach us, Parkinson in their middle. When she sees us, her eyes go wide.

„I've told them about you,“ she shouts.

„Be quiet,“ one of the guards says.

They pass us. I stare after them. Parkinson looks over her shoulder.

Tears are running down her cheeks.

„I'm sorry!“

„Why did she say that?“

I'm pacing the room. Ron leans on the kitchen counter, Hermione sits on the couch. They're both watching me.

„I mean, why did she say that? Why then? Why did she want me to know?“

I can see Hermione's brain working.

„Okay, let's think it through. Why would Parkinson want to tell the Aurors about you and Draco?“

„Because she hoped it'd scare them,“ Ron says.

„I bet it did,“ Hermione says, tugging on one of her locks.

„And what did they do about it?“ I muse.

„They blackmailed him,“ Hermione says, sitting up straighter. „That must be it. When Parkinson told them you'd come to their aid, they wanted to make sure Draco would drive you away. So you wouldn't interfere. They wanted him to make you think he's guilty.“

„But why would he agree?“ Ron says, frowning. „I don't think he'd cave after a little bit of shoving him around.“

„They threatened to hurt Parkinson,“ I say. „Draco would do anything for her.“

„There is no proof at all for anything you just told me, Harry,“ Kingsley says.

He doesn't say it dissmissvely. He's just stating a fact.

„But I know it's true,“ I say.

The Minister sighs. „I believe you do, but I can't change the verdict because you believe something, Harry. There is the word of four against Malfoy – including his own testimony.“

„He's only said that to protect Parkinson!“

„No guard is allowed to harm the prisoners,“ Kingsley says.

„We both know that this is not how it works,“ I say.

„Was Parkinson harmed during her stay in the holding cell in any way?“

„Not that I know of. But Draco did what they wanted him to.“

„Harry, I just... I don't know how to make a case. All you're giving me are suspicions.“

It takes me a lot not to set his desk on fire.

„Can I at least see him?“

Draco doesn't talk to me when I visit his cell. It's cold and lonely and my heart aches at the sight of him. He pretends I'm not here. Like I don't exist.

„Draco, I know what they're doing. I know they're blackmailing you.“

His gray eyes flick to me.

„Then you should go,“ he says.

„I just needed to see you. Draco, I promise I'll get you out of here. I know it wasn't your fault.“

The Slytherin bites his lip.

„They'll hurt Pansy,“ he whispers.

„I'll get both of you out. I promise. I promise, Draco.“

I reach through the bar. He just sits there, warily.

„I promise.“

Cautiously, slowly, he stretches out his hands. I take his fingers, cold and his skin dry, and hold on tight. I rest my forehead against the bars.

„I'll get you out,“ I say again.

Needing to believe it.

In the end, it's Ron who gets us the second trial.

Because it's Ron who tracks down the three attackers and manages to establish contradictions in their testimonies.

When I throw his reports on Kingsley's desk, the Minister just nods and says: „I'll have another trial scheduled.“

It's me though who corners the guard that is blackmailing Draco. With my wand at his throat, he isn't so bold anymore.

„You touch Parkinson or Malfoy and I'll ruin your life,“ I promise him, the tip of my wand hot against his throat.

„Understood?“

He nods, raw panic in his eyes.

During the second trial, Draco is honest. He tells the story how it was.

How he saw the man leaving the club, tracking Parkinson. How he followed them and found them with their hands on her. How he drew his wand and disarmed the first one. How the others drew their wands as well.

How he used Sectumsempra on one.

Parkinson's attackers aren't honest. They still tell the tale of two former Death Eaters attacking them for no apparent reason, Draco being the focus of attention.  
I thought with the malicious guard out of the way, the case would be an easy one.

I was wrong.

Draco just barely dodges Azkaban.

Instead, they want to break his wand.

„He wasn't allowed to use any of those curses in the first place,“ one wizard says.

A few argue against it.

Most are on his side.

That's when I jump to my feet. „In case you weren't listening, those wizards were trying to rape Miss Parkinson.“

„Allegedly,“ someone shouts.

My blood is boiling. Hermione, sitting next to me, touches my thigh. I look at her.

„Dementors,“ she mouthes.

„Yeah. Sure, _allegedly_. They also said the dementors trying to give me and my cousin the kiss when I was fifteen were there _allegedly_. Well, those alleged dementors almost sucked the soul out of me. And who would have killed Voldemort then?“

All eyes are on me. My heart is thundering.

„No one believed me back then, either. Because it was easier. It was easier to believe I was a crazy liar than to face the truth. And now it's easier to believe it was the former Death Eater's fault – even though you know the truth. It wasn't Draco's fault. He was defending Parkinson and himself. You can't break his wand for that.“

I sit back down.

It's quiet for a while. Ron pats me on the back and Hermoine smiles at me.

My improvised speech doesn't help as much as I hoped it would. It prevents Draco's wand from being broken.

It doesn't prevent them from putting a restraining order on him. It doesn't prevent them from giving him a fine that I know he can't pay.

In the end, Draco and Parkinson walk free – as the three attackers do. And while the Slytherins are to pay a fine higher than what their small apartment is worth, the wizards are interviewed by the Prophet, to talk about the diffamation they've experienced.

It's Parkinson who approaches me first.

„Thanks, Potter,“ she says and means it.

We're standing in front of the Ministry – Ron, Hermione, Parkinson, Draco and I.

„I wish I could have done more,“ I say truthfully.

„You've saved us from Azkaban,“ she says. „That's a lot more than I have ever done for you.“ She lowers her head. „I'm sorry for what I did in Hogwarts. I'm sorry for saying we should hand you over.“

I shrug. „It's fine. I get why you did it. In the end, it's what saved us all. If I'd have just gone then, many people who are now dead might still be alive.“

Parkinson blinks at me. „Well, it was still shitty of me.“

„I forgive you,“ I say and she exhales.

Then I look at Draco. When our eyes meet, my chest hurts.

It always does around him.

„Thank you,“ he says simply.

„You don't have to thank me. You didn't do anything wrong.“

I want to reach for him. But he seems untouchable, like carved from marbel.

„We should better get home,“ Draco says, looking at Parkinson.

„Okay.“ She smiles at us and before I can think of something to do or say, they've disappeared.

When I show up on Draco's doorstep, he's wearing sweats. It looks so good on him, I want to rip his clothes right off.

But his expression instantly tells me that this is not what will happen.

„Hey,“ I say.

„What are you doing here?“ He sounds so tired.

„I wanted to see you.“

„You should go.“

„Why?“

The tilt of his head expresses annoyance. „Lessons are over, Potter. It's time you move on.“

I swallow hard. „That's not what this was to me.“

Finally, Draco can't hold my gaze anymore.

„You should really go,“ he says.

„Why?“ I step a little bit closer.

Draco lifts his hand and puts it to my chest. Holds me back.

„This is never going to work,“ he says gently.

„Why not?“ I feel like a stupid kid. Always asking why.

„Because you're way too good for me.“

„I'm not. You know I'm not.“

„They'll never leave us be.“

„I don't care about what everyone says,“ I say, heart pounding against Draco's hand.

„I like you, Draco.“

He kisses me. I try to pull him closer, to touch him, but he pulls back again before I can.

„Partners should be equal, Harry. We could never be equal.“

„We're equal.“

„No, we're not. I'll be on the streets soon because I can't pay this fine. I can't travel and I can't properly cast. I can't walk down Diagon without having insults thrown at me. I have no stable job and no future. We're not. Equal.“

„Draco,“ I say.

I try to kiss him again, but he pushes me away.

„I wish you the best,“ he says and then closes the door in my face.

Since Draco kicked me out a month ago, I've made out with two guys.

Those encounters led me to the realization that I've been stupid.

I may be gay, but I didn't like kissing Draco because he's a man. I like kissing Draco because it's Draco that I'm kissing.

That realization sparks the idea for a night of heavy drinking with Ron. On a Sunday night.

After we've emptied the first bottle of Firewhiskey, my head is swimming and my body floating and my heart hurts.

It hurts in Draco's presence and it hurts more in his absence. I really can't win.

„He's not even trying. He doesn't care at all,“ I slur, half hanging over the couch. „He just wanted me for a fuck. Which shouldn't bother me because I wanted that too but it does bother me.“

Ron blinks at me. „That sucks.“

„Yeah. I miss him, Ron. I really fucking miss him.“

„I know.“

„And I'm angry, too. I mean – why doesn't he _try_? Why did I think he was different? You know, I thought he saw me. I thought he was there for me, to touch me.“

At this point, I don't even know what I'm saying anymore.

„Yeah. I'm really sorry, mate.“

„Me too.“

We stare into our empty glasses.

„I still love Hermione,“ Ron says.

I sigh deeply. „I know.“

„Yeah. It's bloody terrible.“

„She loves you too, I think.“

„But I love her more.“

„Fuck.“

„Yeah. We're fucked.“

* * *

It takes me a month to admit to myself that I miss Harry Potter.

It takes me a month and a day to admit to myself that I've known this was way more than sex to me from the moment we started it.

„I made the right choice. Right, Pans? We wouldn't have worked.“

We share the couch at the club. Our apartment is sold and the fine still isn't paid.

„I don't know.“

„What?“ I turn to look at her in the darkness. „You always said it couldn't work.“

„I know. But that was before I saw how much he likes you.“

I want to hex her.

„He doesn't like me that much.“

„I think he does.“

„I'm just the first man he's been with. That is always confusing.“

Pansy frowns. „I don't think it's that confusing. I don't even really remember the guy that was my first kiss.“

„Harry and I did more than just kiss.“

„I'm well aware. I still think he likes you. But I also think that you and I are sleeping on a dirty couch in the staff room of a strip club. So maybe dating Harry Potter isn't really on the cards.“

We've been sleeping on the couch for a week when I decide that I want Harry back.

I mean, I knew that I wanted him back before.

But I decide to try.

In the end, becoming the equal of Harry Potter has always been what I wanted most.

And I'm not going to sleep on a couch for the rest of my life.

The first thing I do is swallow my pride and talk to Lovegood.

It then takes me two interviews and the promise of a blow job (which I am not intending to keep) to get a job at the Quibbler.

After three months, Pansy and I can move into an apartment again. It's as small as the old one was, but a little prettier.

Pansy still strips while I write strange articles by day and serve cocktails by night.

It could be worse. I'm tired all the time and the fine eats up most of what I earn, but it could be worse.

I don't hook up with strangers anymore.

Part of the reason is that I simply don't have time. Whenever I'm not working, I'm either sleeping or hanging out with Pansy.

But mostly, I just don't see the point if it's not Harry.

I think of him a lot.

I think of him when I get dressed and when I undress, when I walk to my small office and when I put drinks together.

The last part of my fine is paid almost five months after I kicked Harry out of my apartment.

Pansy and I celebrate that night with sparkling wine and chocolate, charming the lights of my room into disco lights and singing to our favorite muggle songs.  
We fall asleep in my bed together and when I wake up, I feel free.

Not completely free. Not the _I-can-go-chase-my-dreams-now_ free.

But more free than yesterday and that's is all that counts.

When I knock on Harry's door a day after Pansy's and my small celebration, I fully expect him to to slam it in my face.

It's been almost half a year.

I know that.

He's probably gone out with plenty other men since I've left.

I know that.

We weren't even ever really together.

I know that.

But I have to try.

I at least have to tell him that I wanted to. That I care. That I never wanted to leave him.

When he opens the door, I momentarily forget how to breathe.

He looks stunning. His messy hair is even more unruly than usually, his shirt is too big and rumpled and his jeans don't fit him well at all.

I'd drop to my knees in front of him this instant.

Not that I'd tell him that, of course. I still have a little bit of my pride.

„Hello, Harry,“ I say and I wonder if he can tell how nervous I am.

He swallows. His eyes are so bright. „Hey.“

I hold out the flowers I bought him.

„What's that?“

„It's for you. See it as... an apology and an attempt to court you.“

He snorts. „Court me? I think you were born in the wrong century.“

I smile weakly. „I've been thinking that for years now.“

He takes the flowers. „Why are you here, Draco? I thought you never wanted to see me again.“

„Yes, I – well. I don't think you should be with someone who isn't your equal, so I tried to become yours. I don't think I've succeeded, but I've done what I could.“

I look at him. My heart is thudding in my chest.

„What?“

„The fine is paid. Pansy and I have found an apartment. I have a job at the Quibbler now.“

I inhale. „I missed you. I missed you all the time. And I understand if you don't want me here ever again, but I wanted you to know. I needed to tell you.“

He's looking at me out of those eyes, not saying anything.

My heart quietly breaks in two.

„Alright. Have a nice evening, then.“

I want to turn and leave, but before I can, I'm hauled into the apartment and shoved against the wall. My arms fly up and warp around Harry's neck and he's kissing and kissing and kissing me and Merlin, I love kissing Harry.

„You idiot. You fucking asshole. I hate you so much, I -“ He apparently can't find words matching my stupidity, so he just growls and keeps kissing me.

I moan and hold on tight and he puts his hand under my shirt.

„My eyes!“ someone exclaims and we jump apart.

Weasley is standing across the room, gaping at us, and I've never been less pleased to see him.

„Weasley.“

„Malfoy.“

Ron exchanges a look with Harry.

„I guess I'll be off, then,“ Weasley says and Harry drags me to his room.

„Give me five minutes!“ the ginger shouts, but Harry just closes the door and is all over me again.

„Shouldn't we wait?“ I ask him between breathless kisses.

„I waited six fucking months. Ron will survive,“ Harry says and I don't complain.

„I've missed you so much,“ I tell him and Harry nips at my jaw and then pushes me onto the bed.

We undress quickly, impatient hands almost shaky with want and maybe some nerves, too.

„Promise you won't fucking leave again,“ Harry says against my skin, wet mouth trailing over my chest. He flicks his tongue over one of my nipples and I arch my back.

„Never,“ I promise, breathless.

„Harry?“

„Yeah?“

„Fuck me.“

He moans against my belly and then moves up again.

We're quick about preperation today. I think we're both too impatient to wait and it hurts when he enters me, but I don't care. I feel like part of me needs the pain.  
Harry is gazing into my eyes and his jaw is slack. I can see how gone he is and I get so high, higher than anything else can take me.

„Oh God, you're so good,“ I tell him, my lashes fluttering.

„You belong to me,“ he pants, face so close to mine, my knees almost at my ears.

„Yes. I'm yours,“ I say and he moans, a broken sound.

One of my arms wraps around his neck, the other is holding on to his biceps.

He kisses me.

„Come for me, darling,“ I say and he does. He does, just like that. Like he'd need nothing but my voice to push him over the edge.

I'm prepared to wait for him to come down a few minutes now, but Harry doesn't take that long. Before I know what's happening, he's sliding down the bed.

„Turn around,“ he says, voice wrecked.

I forget how to breathe as I do.

His hands are on my thighs. Then his mouth follows and I have to bite down on my arm to keep from shouting already.

No one has ever done that for me. I've always been too proud to ask and no one has offered.

Except for Harry.

Except for Harry, who is now kissing and licking his way up between my legs.

I'm still wet and sticky and he doesn't seem to care at all.

I come from his tongue, rutting the mattress like I lost my mind and shouting his name.

When I'm spent, he crawls up again and pulls me against him. I slip on leg between his and rest my head on his chest. He's petting my hair and I almost cry. I've missed this so much.

„Will you stay?“ he asks me, voice low and grave in the quiet room.

„If you want me to,“ I say.

„Yeah. I want you to.“

I lift my head so that I can look into his eyes.

„Then I'll stay.“

I wake Harry up with a blow job and the fact that he's moaning my name before he's even fully awake makes me hard in a second.

I push the blanket away and straddle his lap.

„Oh my God. Yes, fuck yes. Come here, love,“ he says.

But I'm already there, slowly sinking down. His groan is loud enough to wake the neighbors and I want him to do it again.

We rock together lazily, his hands firm on my hips.

He's gazing into my eyes and says: „I think I might be in love with you.“

I smile widely and kiss him.

„I think I might be in love with you too.“

* * *

I introduce Draco to all of my friends when we celebrate my new position as Professor Potter, teacher for Defense Against the Dark Arts.

At the same time, we also celebrate Ginny's spot with the Harpies. We're all sure she'll be the next Krum in no time.

The first time I kiss Draco on the mouth in front of Ron (on purpose, I mean), Ron turns faintly green and Draco looks at me as if I'd have hung the moon.

Little does he know that's how I look at him all the time.

It takes me an eternity to convince Draco to move in with me. He feels like it would mean giving up his independence.

We have to find an apartment that he could afford by himself and we argue about it a lot. I tell him I want to spoil him and know that he likes that.

He tells me he doesn't want to live at a place of which he couldn't even afford the bath tub.

We meet in the middle, both halfway happy.

It's not like I'd care about big apartments. I've spent ten years of my life living in a cupboard, afterall.

But for the first time, I feel like all my money is worth something – I can use it to spoil Draco. There is nothing I love more than buy him all the pretty things he secretly still adores and I'm getting better and better at doing that without having him getting mad at me.

In return for the bracelets and chocolates and ancient books I buy for him, Draco cooks for me and reads to me and sometimes, I even get to watch him dance in the kitchen.

The first time I see him spinning around in his apron, smudges of flour on his cheek, is the moment I know I love him, without any doubt,

When I finally got Draco to live with me, Ron and Pansy are starting to date. No one really knows what to think about it.

Except for Hermione. She says it's great.

Taming dragons isn't easy.

Sometimes, dragons don't want to be tamed.

Sometimes you just have to beckon them, seduce them until they'll never leave your side again.

That's what I'm planning to do with mine.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> Kudos and Comments are very much appreciated.


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